Lies and a disguise
by DistrictFourVictor
Summary: The boy with the bread, the blonde haired eleven year old who threw me the bread has, more than ten years later, called the official Capitol Escort System under his own name asking for the least qualified woman for sex. And that woman is me.
1. Chapter 1

**Lies and a disguise**

I pull my skirt down nervously; I've been ordered to wear a short skirt and a revealing shirt for this meeting. I have the name on a note which I carry in my handbag; _Peeta Mellark._ Of course I recognize the name.

The boy with the bread, the blonde haired eleven years old who threw me the bread has, twenty years, called the official Capitol Escort System under his own name asking for the least qualified woman for sex. And that woman is me.

Though I know I will recognize him, I don't think he will recognize me. Since I turned eighteen, I moved to the Capitol to be an escort so I could send money home to my mother.

Being an escort in Panem had a good pay, but a bad reputation; obviously. In the Capitol, every man or woman above 21 is likely to have used an escort at least once. I'm not sure where Peeta Mellark lives now – they never tell the escorts in case the man or woman receiving the sex rapes them and they want revenge – but it's likely to be in either District 12 or the Capitol.

The elevator opens on the top floor of an apartment block. I had to get a train here, but it was not a long trip; I'm guessing Peeta Mellark now lives on the outskirts of the Capitol. I walk slowly along the corridor; in our escort training, we're taught to memorize our surroundings so we know all of the exits, just in case we are held hostage and manage to escape.

I knock twice on the door that I was told to go to; 3rd door on the left on the 12th floor. I stand back nervously and then the door swings open.

Peeta Mellark; he has messy blonde hair and he is still handsome. He was in the 74th hunger games with my sister, Prim, who I let die. The sister who I could have volunteered for but didn't, and Peeta Mellark won.

"You're the girl?" Peeta asks, and I nod. "You'll do. Feel free to come in."

I walk in after Peeta and he closes the door behind me. Even with my first client, I have never felt as nervous as this. His apartment is nice, but very Capitol-ish. I'm sure he lives on the outskirts of the Capitol now.

"How long do I have your services for?" Peeta asks me.

"The entire night, sir," I reply, placing my handbag on a hook on the back of his door. "You have a lovely apartment,"

"Thank you," He says. "And if we have all night, I'll order some food, shall I?" He goes into his kitchen and flicks up a lid which contains a button. He presses it down and speaks clearly and slowly. "I'll have the two number fives, please,"

Seconds later, his kitchen counter opens up and two extravagant meals appear on two plates. Chicken drizzled in sauce with steamed vegetables and potatoes. He carries them both to his dining room table and I follow, feeling out of place in my slutty clothes, when he says, "You will eat naked, please." Peeta says. He doesn't sound embarrassed; he's done this before. "But leave the heels on, they are rather pretty."

I wiggle out of my skirt, pull of the lingerie shirt, and walk over to the dining room table completely nude apart from the shoes. His eyes linger on my breasts as I sit opposite him. He places a plate in front of me.

"So," He says, slicing the chicken into cubes on his plate. "Tell me about yourself."

"I don't have much to tell," I say honestly. The chair is high enough that my breasts almost rest on top of the table. "I'm from the Capitol but-"

"Liar," Peeta says, chewing his chicken. "I can tell you're from District Twelve; the hair, the eyes, the skin. I am, too. You lived on the Seam?"

"Yes," I say, taken aback. "But only until I was sixteen. My family and I managed to move to the Capitol under the president's orders,"

"Oh, really?" Peeta seems to believe this. "That is a strange request from the president himself. Is there any reason why he did this?"

"When I was sixteen, the president did a sweep of all of the women in all of the districts and apparently he thought I was willing to do anything to feed my family, which I was, so here I am," I bite into a potato and chew as I watch his reaction to my lie; he doesn't seem to think I am saying anything but the truth.

"Do you enjoy being an escort?" Peeta asks me.

I shrug. "It has its ups and downs, I suppose, but so does every job."

"We need to talk about your limits," Peeta says after a few moments of silence as we both eat. "Anything you are not willing to do. It did not specify your limits in your notes."

"I am open to anything as long as there is a safe word." I tell him; he sounds pleased at this. "What would you like it to be?"

"Bread," Peeta says, and my eyes meet his a second before they fall back to my plate. "Panem is Latin for bread, and it is a word that would not usually come up in sexual encounters."

"Perfect," I say, but all I can think of is the boy with the bread, and how in a few hours, we're going to be having sex. "What about you? Tell me about yourself."

He swallows and takes a sip of wine. "My name is Peeta Mellark; I lived in District 12 until I was entered into the 74th Hunger Games and won. I lived in Victors Village until I was twenty three before I decided that a move to the Capitol would be suitable for my business, so I did it, and here I am."

I take a sip of my own wine. "What does your business involve?"

"Mellark Industries is a company where girls are sold to wealthy customers as wives," Peeta says. I pretend to act as if this is the norm. "It is very popular among the older people in the Capitol."

"Have you found yourself a wife in your company?" I ask.

His eyes meet mine. "No," He says. "I'm still looking."

I take another sip of my wine to avoid his gaze. Is this what he does? Get escorts and decide whether they are marriage material? I never get the chance to ask, because he rises from his seat. "In the bathroom, you will find the items I want you to wear."

"Excellent," I rise from my seat.

"Hold on," He says, and he marvels at my naked body. After having a lot of men doing the same, it doesn't make me uncomfortable. He walks over to me and kisses me vigorously, and my tongue finds itself in his mouth, and one of his hands weaves its way between my thighs. After about a minute of this, he pulls away. "I'll give you two minutes, and in the bedroom, call me Mr. Mellark,"

I go into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. In the bathroom, there is nothing but a gag and a vibrator sitting on the toilet seat. I put the gag in my mouth, knot it at the back of my head, and switch the vibrator on, and push it into myself. I have to hold onto the shower curtain because the vibration feels so good, and then I unlock the door and walk towards the bedroom.

Peeta is waiting. The bedroom looks a normal space; two doors leading off into two separate rooms, one I assume is a bathroom. There is a sofa at the end of the bed.

"What a welcome sight," Peeta says. "Come here." I walk towards him and he pulls off his tie. He uses it to tie my wrists together. "No talking unless I tell you too." He touches the gag. "Not that you can,"

It occurs to me that with the gag in my mouth, I can't use the safe word, but there is something about Peeta which comforts me, and I'm not sure what. "Follow me," He says, and he opens the door to a room which is completely painted white apart from a painted red cross on the floor. There is a bed in the centre.

"Kneel," He says, so I kneel. "Hands behind your head, knees apart, and breasts pushed out." I do what he asks. The vibrator is making my vision go blurry; I've only ever used one before. The door closes silently behind us. I think the room is soundproof.

He opens a box I hadn't noticed he was carrying. It is large and painted white like the room. I see it if full of whips and sex toys. My heart beats with anticipation. He walks over to me and pulls the gag out of my mouth. "Are you okay with the use of sex toys?"

"Yes, Mr. Mellark," I breathe. He reaches to my sex and pulls the vibrator out; it is lubricated with my juices.

He then pushes it into my ass, causing me to gasp; when I do so, he slaps my ass, causing me to flinch, but I don't cry out again. He starts to slowly unbutton his suit pants. "I have sex in three stages," He tells me. "I first do oral; then vaginal; then anal. Understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Mellark," I say.

He pushes his jeans down, along with his boxer shorts. I hadn't noticed the raging erection there. He offers me his shaft, and I take it, sucking on the end, and then taking him deeper into my mouth, massaging his balls with my hands. "Oh, yeah, baby," He pushes himself further down my throat, and I almost choke on him, but when I make a slight noise, he slaps me again. "You can scream later," He whispers.

I start to pump my hand along his dick too, moving my head fast against his cock, and he moans, pumping his hips harder and faster so his dick is forced down my throat, and then, he erupts inside of me, and I swallow it, licking my lips.

"Excellent," He murmurs. His hands part my ass cheeks and he pulls out the vibrator. He tosses it to the other side of the room. "Now," He pulls my legs out from under me so I'm lying on the floor and roughly pushes himself into me. He presses his hand against my mouth so I don't moan in pleasure and his thumb stimulates my clit.

"Soon," He says. He is slamming into my with such force I can feel the pleasure at the back of my teeth. He puts my leg over his shoulder and slams into me continuously; my back arches and my vision blurs. I feel the build-up and he must sense it, too, because on the last second, before I explode, he slams his mouth against his, and I moan as I release.

"Round two, completed," He says, though I'm confused, because I could feel his build-up, too, but he never bothered to finish. Gasping from my orgasm, he puts the gag back in my mouth. "I don't use lube, by the way; grip onto the bed frame."

And he slams into my ass, over and over until I am screaming with pleasure, and he must like the sound because it makes him go faster, and then I orgasm, and then seconds later he orgasms, and then I collapse onto the floor.

"Done," He says. I have never felt so drained in my entire life. He lifts me up, pulls off the heels and yanks out the gag, and puts me onto the bed. "Night," and then the lights go off and I fall asleep in the strange room with the vibrator still buzzing on the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

"I've got a request," Peeta says. "In my apartment, you will always be naked."

We're lying in the bath, the hot water feeling really good against my skin after being in the cold winter air, my head on his shoulder, my body between his legs, his thumb massaging my clit. Never have I felt more comfortable with a client.

"Okay," I say. He's not the first to make this request.

His finger slowly slips inside of me and pumps slowly in and out, and my back arches in pleasure. "Does that feel good?" Peeta asks.

"So good," I murmur.

It's a week after our first meeting, and my boss informed me that he has had three other girls since my appointment, but he has come back for me. He also paid a ridiculous amount to have me for the next full week. This is day one.

He begins to increase the speed and my body squirms with desire. "Also," He says. "You will not bath without me, okay?"

"Okay," I mumble; I can barely speak because of his hand. His finger is massaging my clit, and two more are thrusting slowly, too slowly, in and out of me. "Anything else?"

"When I'm gone, you can come and go; I don't mind. Just make sure you're back before I come back."

"Agreed," I say. I feel happy that he doesn't mind that I go; I've had clients that have made me stay for days alone in their houses. It gets lonely.

His fingers are moving faster now, and I'm breathing with fast, heavy pants.

"I have fucked a lot of women, but you are my favourite," My vision is blurry now. "You are mine." And then I orgasm, gasping, and his fingers slip out of me and my former rigid position has relaxed against his body. I feel his erection underneath me.

"That was fast," Peeta says, lacing his fingers with mine. "They have trained you well,"

"Yes, they have," I say.

"How do they train you?" Peeta asks.

"By making you fuck," I say. "A lot,"

"Describe it to me," He says.

"First, I did it with a guy," I say slowly. "And he tied me up and whipped me and fucked me a lot of times. They made me do it because that's what real clients would be like. I was on top, and then in control, and then the opposite of those, and then over and over with the same guy until I got the hang of it. I practised giving blowjobs and hand jobs and being fucked anal and everything that I needed to become an escort."

"Then what?"

"Then, it was with women," I say. "My boss, actually. I had four weeks with the first guy, but five with my boss. She was aggressive, too, but the best in the business, I have heard. She taught me how to fuck women. Then I had a five week training period where I practised threesomes. Then I was let out into the escort world. I had a few clients that got me for free, since I was new, and then I started charging normally because I was good."

"Did they teach you anything else?" He asks.

"Masturbation, too; how to pleasure myself if the customer wants me too, things like that," I tell him.

"How far are you into the business now?"

"Week seven," I say.

"Do you enjoy it?" He asks.

"There isn't much to hate," I say. "It's good money."

"And are you the least qualified?"

"Out of all of us, I guess so," I say. "Some have been in the business their entire lives."

"How do they find it?" He asks.

"I'm not sure," I say. "We don't see each other much."

"Why not?"

"A lot of Capitol men and women pay for the night," I say. "Much like you did, apart from you're not from the Capitol."

"Is there any men in your escort firm?"

"There was, the one I practised with, but he quit," I say. "Not enough business; the women like the women and the men like the women so there wasn't a job for him."

"No gays?"

"At least not openly," I say.

His fingers make swirling patterns on my thighs as I talk; I wonder if he is asking me questions to distract me as he feels my body. Not that I mind; at least he is discreet about it. I've had some clients that just grab what they can.

"Do you use escorts a lot?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Not compared to my friends," He says. "But we're not talking about me. How many women are at your escort firm?" His hands smooth over my hips.

"Maybe three dozen," I say. "Some are new. They stay at the firm to have training for a while before they are let out into the Capitol, but like I said, some have been there since they were sixteen, like I have, but they're a lot older."

"How old is the oldest one?"

"I think she might be thirty," I say. "I'm not sure."

We lay in silence for a while, his fingers smoothing over my skin, before he says, "I've got work. I need to go."

"Okay," I say, climbing out of the tub. He pulls the plug out, grabs a towel, and towels me dry, and then towels himself dry, and then gives me a kiss. "Have a good day," I say, and he changes, and leaves.

I stand alone in his living room, naked and tingling. Never before have I felt such attachment to a customer. Is this because he is the boy with the bread, or because he treats me like I am more than just a body?

Most people do not care about my past, or my job, or my life, because they pay me for sex, and then I go; but he does. Even if it was just to distract me, it felt like he was trying to ease me, and I have never had this feeling before. It's good; new.

I ring my boss, because when you stay overnight, you're supposed to, and she asks me how Mr. Mellark is. "He's nice," I say. "Different,"

"Rich, too," She tells me. "Play it right and you could have a steady customer there."

After I hang up, I don't know what to do with myself. I have a feeling – either just for security purposes or to watch me – that there are cameras somewhere in the apartment. I try to ignore the thought.

In the kitchen, I see he has left me an envelope. When I open it, it has money in, and it is labelled: _Go out and treat yourself. _So I do.

I catch the train into the city, dressed in some clothing I find in a drawer, and buy the sluttiest lingerie I can find; a pink, frilly thong and a push-up see-through bra and heels and I keep them in the bag, pulling off my clothes when I get into the apartment like Peeta requested, and I consider putting the lingerie on, but he requested that I stay naked, so I do.

When he comes home, I am sat at his dining table, watching the television. He is wearing a suit and a tie and a white shirt and his hair is ruffled and he has the same crooked smile as he did when he left. "Did you go out today?" He asks.

"Yes," I say. "In the bag,"

He opens it and grins. "It would be a sad to waste such attire,"

"Indeed," I say.

"I wonder," Peeta says. "Have you ever played pool?"

The spare room turns out to be a game room with a massive pool table in the middle. I have actually played pool on many occasions; in breaks during training, my boss taught me, just for something to do. I'm good at pool; very good.

"Let's play a game," Peeta says as he hands me the cue stick. "If I win, we get to do whatever I want. If I lose, we can do whatever you want."

So we play. He goes easy on me until the end. He turns out to be very good at pool. He wins. Then he fucks me on the pool table.

As an escort, I don't think I've ever been so satisfied at work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all of the nice reviews and shit guys – you're all great!**

**(And even if you hate this story, thank you for reading nevertheless)**

"You have everything," I tell him. "You can have everything – but not my name."

"Why not?" He breathes. "Why can't I know?"

My boy with the bread. My saviour. The boy that gave me hope in the bleak months after my father's death. The boy who went into the Hunger Games with my sister; the sister I didn't volunteer for. I remember on his Victory Tour, he said mentioned her; his district partner. I'm not sure why he did that, and despite the fact that I owe him my life, I can't give him my name. I can't tell him who I am.

We're tangled in bed sheets, and I feel the warmth of his body against mine. "You know you can't," I mumble. "For security purposes; I'm an escort, not your girlfriend."

"I know," He says, almost defensively. "Don't you think I know that? If you were my girlfriend, you'd trust me."

"And that's why I'm not," I say.

He looks annoyed, and then he rolls over to look at the clock. "I've got work," He says. "See if you can change your mind whilst I'm gone,"

"Don't count on it," I say, and he glares at me, and leaves.

I cover my face with my hands. Why am I talking to him like this? Why isn't he retaliating? Despite what he said about the girlfriend thing, it almost feels like I am. Is that a feeling based on years of seeing him across the playground, or the feeling of having him fuck me? I don't know.

One of the main rules of being an escort is do not get attached, because it always ends, because the job is to have sex, and leave. I remember Peeta telling me at our first meeting that he hadn't found a wife yet, but he was still looking; is that what he sees in me?

He's changed since our first meeting, and it was only a week ago. Asking about my past was a bad idea; answering the questions was an even worse idea. He has an idea about who I am, what I've been through, and why I'm here. I hardly know anything about him apart from he fucks girls that I've probably passed at the firm and that he is rich. Oh, and that he saved my life, but that doesn't really help me here.

How has he not recognized me? Is it because of the years of being an escort have changed me into somebody that is such a slut that he can't even see _me_? The girl he risked a beating for?

Day two; not a good day for me so far. The sex was good, but now I just feel horrible. If I tell him who I am, what will happen? Will he be happy that the poor girl from the Seam is here, or will he be disgusted that I never told him? I can't risk it.

When he comes home, I expect to argue with him, and I open my mouth in the hallway to shout, but then he grabs hold of me and kisses me roughly, his hands groping my body as he slams me against the wall. His lips are fast and aggressive against mine. His hands twist in my hair, his breath hot in my mouth, and I know that the Peeta from last week is back.

He practically throws me onto the floor and in a second he is slamming into me. My back arches and I throw my head back. His hands are gripping onto my thighs; taking advantage of me, like he should. My hands grip onto his messed up blonde hair as he slams into me over and over until he orgasms and collapses onto me. He doesn't even pull out.

For a while, we are gasping on his wooden floor, and then he says, "I have a pool upstairs,"

"This has an upstairs?" I pant.

He rises; he hadn't even taken off his shirt. He yanks it off now, takes hold of my hand, and pulls me up the spiral stairs which are hidden away in his study – another room I didn't know his enormous apartment has – and there is a pool, at the back of the second floor, small, but by the large windows which look over the Capitol.

He grabs hold of me, kisses me roughly again, and his hands roam over my breasts, and then he releases me. I climb into the pool; the water is warm and reaches my chest. Peeta lifts me up so I my legs are around his waist, and then we kiss, our lips wet from the water and our bodies warm from the pool.

His hands grab onto my hips as he presses me into the window, and he pushes me down onto him; we both moan, and then he silences me with his lips. He thrusts into me over and over; my nails rake down his back, wanting him closer, but when he presses against me with such force I think the glass will shatter, it isn't enough.

His lips, as he smashes into me, clamp down on the side of my neck; I know he is going to leave a love bite there. I feel my body shudder, and then I orgasm, and I slide down the glass. I feel numb, satisfied, and Peeta grabs hold of my face, kisses me, and then releases me.

"Want some wine?" Peeta asks, and I nod. He climbs out of the pool and goes over to a wine cooler. I walk along the pool floor, and feel for the high-raised tiles at the edge of pool. I sit down on it and the water laps up at my thighs.

He sits down next to me, yanks out the cork from the wine bottle, and drinks it from the bottle. I watch the cars moving and the people walking in the distance and the stars. He hands me the bottle and I take a swig.

"Guess what," Peeta says. I hand him the bottle back. "That view isn't real,"

"Seriously?" I say. He grins. "Pretty convincing," I tell him.

"They have this room in the training centre – when I was in the Hunger Games, I mean," Peeta says. "And it has a remote where you can change the view out of the window. I took that idea and here we are."

"You can change it to anything?" I ask.

He gets up, handing me the bottle, and he goes over to a pad on the wall. It has a sort of scrollbar on it, and he scrolls down; the scenery changes quickly, flipping through hundreds, and a few stick in my mind; a desert, the beach, a forest, some mountains. He stops at one which is the ocean and has stars coating the sky. He settles next to me again, and I take another gulp from the bottle.

"Amazing," I tell him, giving him the bottle back. "I love it,"

There is a moment of silence as we both watch the ocean roll in, and then out, licking the sand. "Tell me your name," He murmurs.

"You have everything," I tell him. "But you can't have my name."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for reading the previous chapters guys! I hope you're enjoying it! The reviews are awesome and I hope you like this chapter! Please review:)**

"Where do you think you are?"

I'm kneeling; the blindfold is covering my eyes; I'm naked; I hear his voice reasonably far away. "In the room," I whisper.

"Do you remember the three stages?" Peeta says.

"Yes," I say, and I feel him in my mouth.

My hand pumps up and down his shaft as he fucks my mouth. I move fast, and I feel his hands at the back of my head, forcing me closer and forcing him further down my throat. My hand moves to the speed of his thrusts, and when I feel him about to orgasm, he moves out of my mouth, takes off the blindfold, and puts it into my mouth instead. He knots it tightly at the back of my head.

He pushes me down onto the floor. My hands grip onto the back of his neck and he pushes himself into me, pumping fast, and I groan against the gag, and he pushes himself further into me with each thrust, and my back is arched with my head thrown back and my vision is blurry and I feel the pleasure right in my teeth and he orgasms, and then I orgasm, and he gasps against me for a few moments before he pulls out of me and gets to his feet.

He rolls me over. My hands move upwards to grip onto the bedframe, and he thrusts into me from behind and I moan again. I press my forehead against the bedframe and he grabs hold of my breasts as he pushes, deeper and deeper each time, and I feel the heat rushing through my body, and then I orgasm again, and collapse against the bedframe, gasping.

After about a minute, I feel his fingers, gentle now, undoing the knot at the back of my head. I see his hands remove the gag from my lips. A moment later, he lifts me up, and lowers me onto the bed. He lies down next to me, and kisses me, a kiss which deepens into something veracious, and we tangle in the bed sheet, giggling like school children.

"Do you have to work today?" I ask between the second gaps that happen after minutes of kissing.

"Fuck it," He mumbles against my lips. His hand twists in my hair to pull me closer. "I'd rather stay here,"

"Good," I say, and his tongue slides into my mouth. Our bodies crush together hard.

"Guess what we're doing today," He mumbles as we kiss. "Want to go out in public?"

"Sure," I say. He pulls away to look at me; he seems pleased. "Where are we going?"

He kisses me again, tugging on my bottom lip with his teeth before he speaks. "Skinny dipping,"

"What's that?" I ask, and he pulls away to laugh. "Am I supposed to know?"

"I guess not," He says. "Wear normal stuff but unleash your inner slut underneath; okay?" We kiss again and I crawl out of bed, naked, and walk out, feeling his eyes on me as I leave.

He drives us, and I look out of the window the entire way, because despite living in the Capitol for over four years, I never get used to the citizens; the multi-coloured hair, the golden tattoos, the extravagant clothing, high-heels, weird traditions. I'll never adjust after living on the Seam.

He drives us out of the city; I think we're going towards the wilderness which leads on to District 7. We've been driving for about an hour before he parks on a sort of cliff. "Come on," Peeta says, so I follow him, curious now. We walk to the edge.

The uneven grounding has created a large lake in the ground. From the cliff we're on, it doesn't look too far down; high enough to jump without breaking your neck. The lake is a pale grey colour, probably because it's December, and there are holes in the cliffs, holes that must lead into caves, which are a little above the water.

"Take off your clothes," Peeta tells me. "Don't question me, just do it."

I pull off my jumper, revealing the lingerie I have underneath, and pull off my leggings and shoes. I unfasten the bra and pull off my panties, leaving me stood completely naked on the cliff. "Now what?" I ask.

He's un-buttoning his shirt. "Now jump," He says, and I do.

For several moments, I feel like I am flying; my arms are stretched out, as are my legs, but then I hit the water and I am under the surface for several seconds whilst I thrash, trying to reach the surface; when I do, I gasp for hair and yank my hairband out, making my hair tumble down my shoulders. I see him stood on the edge of the cliff, and then he jumps; he slams into the water with the same amount of force I did but emerges from under the water more gracefully.

"Is this skinny dipping?" I ask him as he takes hold of me; my naked body presses against his. "Swimming naked?"

"Yes," Peeta tells me. "But we're not just swimming."

He kisses me, and I cling to the back of his neck, my legs around his waist. For a few minutes, we kiss, the cold water making our skins freezing cold, and then he says, "Want to explore the caves?"

We swim to the largest hole by the water and he helps me climb into it. He goes ahead of me; the cave is pitch black. My feet are assaulted by stones and rocks that I am too clumsy to see; even after spending almost my entire teenage life in the woods with Gale in District 12, I have never experienced darkness like this. I notice we are starting to go upwards.

I feel his hand reach out for mine, and I cling to his fingers, which carry droplets from the lake. In his other hand, I see something, but I can't make it out in the dark. He seems to know, for some odd reason, where he is going. I see a patch of sunlight ahead; there is a crack in the cave; we must be near the surface. I think the cave is going to end, but it doesn't; it simply cuts off into dirt.

"Lay down," Peeta tells me, and I do; there aren't any rocks here. The ground is soft, maybe from rainfall that has managed to creep through the crack. In his hand, I see what he was carrying; a vibrator. He pushes my knees apart. He switches it on and pushes it inside of me. "Remember when you said that the official Capitol Escort System taught you how to masturbate? Demonstrate those skills,"

He takes hold of my feet and rests them on his shoulders, and then raises his eyebrows expectantly.

The vibrator feels so good; in training, we used these, and it was by far my favourite toy. I start to rub my nipple, rolling it around in my fingers, focusing on the vibration. I start to massage my breast roughly, and then my hand slips down to slowly rub my clit.

Peeta watches, a faint smile on his lips, as my eyes close; I fasten the pace, my hips rocking, until I orgasm, my cries bouncing off the cave walls, my eyes focusing on Peeta, who is grinning as he pulls out the vibrator and takes hold of my hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks so much for the lovely reviews, it means a lot; please keep reviewing so I have faith in this story! It's cool to have a lot of Everlark shippers reading this story and all wondering what will come if it; I hope you won't be disappointed! Have fun reading and I hope you guys enjoy! **

**(And if you have reviewed any of my previous chapters, thank you!)**

"So, it's day four, huh? How are you doing?" My boss asks.

"It's okay," I tell her. I'm sat on Peeta's counter, using his phone, since I didn't bring mine, which was a foolish thing to forget. Now he is at work, it doesn't matter, though I'm surprised he didn't take it with him. "Peet- Mr. Mellark is a nice guy."

"Is he treating you well?" She asks.

"Extremely," I say. "I think I like being rich." We both laugh. "But honestly, it's good."

"Do you know what he does for a living? I was shifting through some of the information he left with us when he hired you and he gives men wives!"

"I know," I say. "He told me,"

"So he's open with it?" She asks.

"I guess," I say. "We didn't talk about it for long."

"Maybe he sees a wife in you," She says. "He's so stinking rich, if you married him and then you got divorced, you'd never have to be an escort again."

"I wouldn't marry him because of his money," I tell her. "He's genuinely a nice person,"

"Oh, well, Katniss, I've got to go. Ring me if there are any problems, okay?"

"Yes, I will do; bye," I say, and I hang up.

It's hard to believe that it is day four, though I don't know why it hurts me that it is, because surely, there will be more appointments with Peeta, and if he chooses not to call, then there will be other Capitol men and women that want sex.

I put the phone back on Peeta's bedside table and collapse onto his mattress. I wonder what he actually does to keep him occupied for long hours almost every day. After a few minutes, I decide to find out.

I flip open his phone and find a contact for his office; when I click it, it leads to the options to ring the office, but also the address. I scribble it down on the back of my hand and change quickly, locking the front door with a spare key that he keeps in his bedroom drawer.

Locating his business is easy; it is the tallest building on the street. I walk up the front steps and see a woman at a desk in the reception. The reception is busy, with Capitol Citizens – much like the ones on the street – passing me as I go towards the desk.

"Excuse me," I say to the woman, who smiles politely when I address her. "Can you send me to Peeta Mellark's office, please?"

"I can send him down for you," She says. "What's the name?"

I'm about to say 'Katniss' but I stop myself. "Just tell him that 'The girl from the Seam' is here," I tell her.

She picks up the phone and dials a number. After several rings, he must pick up, because she says, "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Mellark, however I have a woman down here looking for you; she has told me to tell you that 'The girl from the Seam' is waiting. Should I send her up or do you want to come down?" She listens to whatever he is saying for a few seconds. "Okay, thank you, Mr. Mellark." She smiles at me. "He'd like you to go to his office, please." She hands me one of his business cards and points me in the direction of the elevator.

I read the card as I approach the queue for the elevator. It reads his name, an extremely brief description of his business, and the number and floor of his office; floor twelve, office four.

I step in the elevator with some Capitol citizens that chat none stop with their ridiculous accents which is probably the main thing I hate about the city. If I'm having sex with a client with that accent, I have to tune them out, because I can't focus when they bicker in my ear.

The elevator stops on the twelfth floor and I step out. The corridors have high ceilings and are filled with Capitol men, some dressed normally, like the way Peeta would, but others dressed like cartoons. I stop at the office number four, and knock politely, and wait.

The door opens, but it isn't Peeta; a man dressed smartly in a suit jacket and a tie smiles at me as I stand in the doorway. "Mr. Mellark is just this way," He says. I step inside and he closes the door quietly behind me. "May I take your jacket?"

I am astounded by the size of his office; it must be several times bigger than his apartment. Around the walls are books, and maps in every visible space; a large chandelier, with every light-bulb in a jar, hangs from the ceiling. The carpet is fluffy and white. In the middle, there is a fountain, which gushes water from the middle.

"He is in the door right opposite you," The man says as I remove my shoes. I walk towards the door, in awe of the place, and open the door slowly. It leads to a room, about the size of Peeta's living room that has a desk in the centre, and paperwork in large piles around his chair. He's sat with a Capitol man, looking serious, but then he sees me and the Capitol man turns around as well.

"I think that concludes our meeting," Peeta says, rising, and he shakes the man's hand. "If you want to make your way down to the eleventh floor, you'll meet Percy, and he'll take you to the women. Thank you."

After the Capitol man leaves – he closes the door behind him – Peeta messes up his styled hair and collapses into his chair. "I didn't expect you to be here," Peeta tells me.

"I got bored," I say. "I'm also curious about your business."

"My business?" Peeta says. "I'm surprised you show any interest,"

"I'm a very curious person," I tell him.

"I know," He says with a grin. "Want a tour?" He asks, and I nod.

After giving me a brief tour of his office, he takes me down to the eleventh floor, and introduces me to several of his office friends. He then takes me to see the room where the girls are.

When he told me about his business, I thought of it as a more of a dating opportunity for the Capitol citizens; a single woman signs up, a single man signs up, and if they like the look of each other, they get married. Though I thought of this as a strange business, I never thought that it would be like this.

The women are being sold at auction.

Peeta takes me further into the room. It is a large hall, with a stage; the crowd is full of elderly Capitol men, shouting out their price for the half-naked girl on the stage. She has blonde hair, pale skin, wide blue eyes, and a scared expression; she can't be older than twenty.

And that's when I realize that this is not a form of dating; this is practically slavery.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for all of the lovely reviews so far, it's nice that you're enjoying the story so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter and continue to like the rest! If you like, then please review! It gives me the will to continue to write**

"What did you think?" Peeta asks me back in his apartment. I haven't taken off my clothes; I plan on staying dressed.

"It's disgusting," I tell him.

"What?"

"It's vile," I spit. He looks surprised. "That isn't making people get married, that's slavery, that's disgusting, that's taking vulnerable girls and selling them to paedophiles and perverts and rapists who have the potential to kill them and they don't have a say in the matter."

"I don't understand what you're-"

"I liked you!" I shout. "And that is what you're doing! Running some sort of rape shop in a sleazy building which makes you millions every year! You're sending girls to their potential deaths and you don't care because it makes your wallet fatter!"

"Look, I-"

"You're disgusting!" I yell. "Your business is disgusting, and the fact that you're auctioning girls like they're worthless is disgusting! And worse of all, the millions you are earning every year go towards paying escorts to have sex with you! You're insane!"

"I think that you need to calm down so that I can-"

"Fuck the money; fuck the rest of the week!" I shout, and tears sting my eyes. "I'm fucking leaving, and I don't want you to ever ring the Capitol Escort System and ask for me ever again, because you're sleazy, and you're a sexist piece of shit!"

And when I storm out, he doesn't stop me, or follow me at all. Horrible, gulping sobs hurt my throat as I run down the stairs. What he is doing, the business he is running, is everything I hate about the Capitol and the problem is, I'm no better.

I'm having sex with people I don't even know for cash. I'm basically a high-end prostitute that is too dumb and poor to get any other job. I sell my body like Peeta sells other people's, and it's disgusting.

I get to the Official Capitol Escort System dorms and I collapse in my room. I can't stop the sobs erupting from my chest. My boy with the bread.

And the worse thing is, I liked him, and it's taken me until now to realize it, and when my eyes close, I remember sitting under the dead apple tree, and then growling in my belly radiating through my bones, and my skin freezing cold, and then the warmth of the bread burning my stomach, and the look on the boy with the bread's face as he meets my eyes for a second before he shuffles back inside.

But I force myself to shake it off, because at the end of the day, he is a man who hires women for sex, and that is all. He isn't my boy with the bread; not anymore.

So when I go to my boss in the morning to explain what happens, she looks mildly surprised. "He wrote you a letter," She says. "It was hand-delivered last night, after you came back."

"Was it hand-delivered by him?" I ask.

"Maybe," She says, and I thank her and leave. I tear it open and read it as I am walking down the corridor.

_The girl from the Seam_

_I hadn't realized that you would react so strongly towards my job. I'm sorry. I didn't realize until after you left how much that must affect you, after being sold yourself. I'm sorry, I'm stupid, and I didn't think. _

_And if you can't accept my apology, that's okay. I just want you to know that I like you, too, and I'm sorry I'm a major asshole._

_Like, a major asshole. The biggest asshole ever._

_I'm sorry._

_Peeta_

I hold the letter tightly in my hands and I curl up on one of the sofas as I try to think. _He likes you, too, _I think. But what can come from him liking me and me liking him? How do I know that he isn't going to auction me like he did the other women?

I need to talk to him; luckily, I still have his business card crumpled up in my pocket. Not that I need it; I know his address.

I show up at his door, and I knock, and he answers, and we stand there in silence for a long time before he speaks. "I'm sorry," He says, and I say, "I know,"

"Do you want to come in?" He asks, and I nod.

I sit down on his sofa, and he sits on a sofa opposite, and I say, "What you're doing is horrible," and he says, "I know,"

"How do I know that it's not going to be me stood on that stage, with a bunch of men leering at me, offering a price?" I ask.

"Because you're different," He says. "You're interesting. You don't pretend to be stupid. You're stubborn. You're engrossed by my life. You've obviously had a tough past. I don't want you to feel as if you're worthless because you're not."

We stay in silence for a while. "Do you want me to be your girlfriend? Because I've only known you for... what, a week?"

"I'm possessive; I'm annoying; I'm probably some sort of sex addict; I'm an asshole; and I'm very much in love with you. Does the time we've known each other matter?" Peeta says.

"No," I say. "No, I guess it doesn't."

And then we're kissing. It isn't the normal kissing which I would say happens quickly before the couple goes off to work, or a quick peck in the car; it is the intense kissing I know will lead on to something more.

He's leaning on top of me, kissing me hungrily as if he is a starving man and can't get enough. His hands, like they always do, roam up my body, and they rip off my shirt, and the rest of my clothes, and he kisses down my body, and then he fucks me, right there on the couch, and when it's over, and we're lying side by side on the sofa, he says, "What's your name?"

And I reply, "Katniss; Katniss Everdeen. And you're the boy with the bread."


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for reading, guys! Your reviews are nice so far; thanks! Keep reviewing please, it means a lot.**

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**That's so nice of you to say! It's great that you feel like my story is actually good enough that you read it to make yourself feel better! Thanks for reviewing so nicely, it means so much to know that my story is worthy enough for Everlark shippers to enjoy! Thanks a lot! I love you all!**

"You're- You're who? Katniss? Katniss Everdeen? District- Oh my God; you're Katniss. I didn't even- you're so _different_," He's staring at my face, maybe trying to find the eleven year old girl who he risked a beating for to give her the bread. "I didn't even- boy with the bread?"

"Yes," I say nervously. "I gave you that nickname when I-"

"Katniss," He says, testing my name out in his mouth. "This is so weird. I don't get it. Why didn't you tell me?"

"We're not supposed to," I say. "Giving our names means that the customer can track us down,"

"This is so weird," Peeta says. He doesn't sound offended; he sounds slightly happy. Then his head jerks as he stares at me suddenly. "Your sister went into the Hunger Games with me."

"Yes," I say.

"I remember her," He says. "She was a little kid; twelve years old?"

"Yes," I repeat. "Yeah, that's Prim."

"And she teamed up with that girl from District 11..."

"Yeah," I say. "Rue,"

"Yes!" Peeta says. "I can't believe that- you're here, this is so weird, but it's good, it's okay, hello."

"Hi," I say.

"Sorry I'm freaking out on you, Katniss, I didn't expect to ever see you again," Peeta says. "Especially not being my escort- ah, shit, you're my escort. This is weird."

"Not really," I say. "I'm still the same girl whose name you didn't know."

"Yeah," Peeta says. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You still paid me, and we still have three days to go, and I'm still your escort, so it's okay," I tell him. "Are we okay?"

"We're okay." He says. "How old are you now?"

"Twenty five," I tell him. "Same as you,"

"You look so different," He tells me.

"It's called make-up," I tell him, and he laughs.

"I know what it's called, Katniss," He says.

"Can I ask you something?" I say, and he nods. "Why did you ask for the least qualified?"

Peeta grins. "Because they tend to me nicer," He says. "The over-qualified ones tend to be a lot more fake and likely to try and kill me or something. The newer ones are friendlier."

"Oh," I say.

"Do you want to go to the pool?"

I do, so we go up there and get naked and I sit next to him on the tile step with a glass of water filled with ice-cubes. We don't talk for a long time, admiring the view – the fake view – and after a while, we start to kiss.

And the best thing is, it isn't a kiss influenced by being an escort and being paid for it; it's a kiss influenced by actual longing and physical needs. My body tangles with his and I kneel on either side of his legs, and his lips are cold from the water, and I sink down onto him.

I like being on top, because this way, I can determine how fast or how slow we go. My hips lift up, and then very slowly sink down again; he moans, gasping, and kiss me as I slowly sink up and down. His hands grab hold of my hips, trying to make me go faster, but when I feel him about to orgasm, I push off him, and sink into the water.

"Katniss, what are you-"

I put two ice cubes into my mouth and grab hold of his dick. I slip it into my mouth and he gasps; the warmth of my lips and the coldness of the ice-cubes hits him and his fingers tangle into my hair and he forces himself further into my mouth. I let him be in control as my tongue swirls around him, and I take an ice-cube from the glass and slowly rub it up and down his shaft.

He gasps, and then orgasms into my mouth; I swallow him and crunch the ice-cubes, grinning. He is panting and I move slowly through the water, my fingers dancing on the surface, waiting for him to speak. Finally, he says, "I thought you were the least experienced? Jesus Christ."

And then he slips into the water and kisses me, aggressively, and then he sits me down on the tiled step and his tongue swirls around my clit. I gasp and clutch his hair, because out of the weeks where I have been an escort – even though I was sixteen when I came here to become an escort, I wasn't allowed to train until I was twenty one, and after I had, there had to be a waiting period before I could actually start- nobody has ever returned the favour.

His tongue slips inside of me and I groan, pushing his head closer. This definitely isn't his first time doing this. I wonder how many girls he has done this with; a lot, I guess.

But that doesn't matter, because he's the boy with the bread, and I'm the girl from the Seam, and he has finally found out that my name is Katniss Everdeen.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks again for the great reviews; I hope you enjoy the next chapter! I hope you like reading the rest of the story and keep reviewing! **

He grabs hold of my hips as I grind down. He's breathless, staring up at me, his lips slightly parted; I see a slither of white teeth. His jaw is clenched. He makes slightly exasperated noises as I grind against him; it feels so good, my vision is almost blurry.

He jerks his hips up, trying to generate as much friction as he can. I place my hands on his chest as I move up and down, forcing him down onto the mattress at the same time as allowing him deeper; a moan escapes my lips. I'm in control; as an escort, I'm normally pretty good at it.

"Faster," He moans, so I pick up the pace. His hands massage my breasts, and his body rolls with mine; I notice for the first time how muscled his stomach is. "Katniss,"

I can barely breathe; I feel my climax growing, and I'm ready to release. I grind harder and faster, and he moans; I know his fingers will leave bruises on my skin. Then, his body shudders as he orgasms, and the warmth of him filling me mixing with the moans in the air causes me to follow him.

I stretch out next to him. He's asleep already. My finger runs lightly down his nose, over his bottom lip, down his neck, and I make light swirling patterns on his chest. I blink slowly, sleepily, as I do this. It's peaceful here, tangled in bed sheets. I don't want to move.

I fall asleep, and when I wake up, Peeta is still dreaming. I climb out of his bed, walk over to the mirror, and notice the red finger marks around my hips. They will turn into bruises soon. My fingers run over the love bite on my neck. I hadn't noticed it had forced.

I get some cereal and eat naked on the kitchen counter. I start to wonder whether the sex we had the night before was rough or normal. I think that, though there is a thin line between the two, we were just on it. Not rough like the first time we had sex, but there was something more animal-like about it than normal sex.

Day five; or was it day six? I'm too caught up in the talking and the sex to keep track on the date. I dump the cereal bowl in the sink, and I'm about to ring my boss from my phone which is in my jacket by the door when I feel Peeta's arms wrap around my waist. "You're freezing," He mumbles. "Come back to bed,"

I follow him back to his room and we crawl under the covers. He kisses me, and then his lips suck on my neck, making a love bite to join the other one there, and I let him. When he is finished, he starts to kiss down my body. He stops at my left breast, and captures the nipple in his mouth; I moan, my fingers lacing into his hair. His teeth lightly bite down.

His lips continue to embark down my body until his tongue is swirling around my clit. I tug at his hair, my ass grinding down into the mattress as he assaults me with his mouth. I cry out, the sensation taking over my body, and when I'm just about to release, my hips jerking, he pulls away. "Let's go and have a bath," He says.

In the high water with the surface hidden by suds, we kiss. His skin is soapy from the water and I sit on his lap, my legs on either side of his waist, my breasts pressed against him, kissing hungrily; I don't ever want to stop.

I sink down onto his erection; he gasps and I jerked down so suddenly that the water poured over the sides of the tub and splashed onto the tiled floor. We're still kissing as I push up and down on his dick, riding him, and his hands press down on the same place as yesterday, pressing down hard, forcing me harder down onto him. I groan as more water splashes out of the tub; the sensations are so strong, we don't care.

"You're so beautiful," He murmurs as we kiss. I'm making gasping noises now, so close to release; I take hold of his balls and massage them with my hand. He groans and kisses me harder. "Katniss, you're so beautiful,"

My hips are moving very fast now; I can't stop them from jerking uncontrollably up and down. My breasts bounce, covered from the soapy water, and then I orgasm in mid-kiss, and he explodes seconds after, and we cradle each other in the tub, panting after our releases.

"That was good," Peeta eventually stammers.

"Yeah," I say. "Least-qualified my ass." And we both start to laugh, and then he kisses me for a long, long time, and then presses his forehead against mine.

"Can I book you for another week?" He asks, and my fingers lace with his.

"Sure," I say. "In fact, you can book me for free forever."

We kiss. "Are you asking me to go out with you?" He says.

"I thought we already were?" I say. We kiss again. "I'm just making it official."

Peeta smiles. "Okay, then, Katniss Everdeen; let's have a lot of sex for free and let's talk for free and we'll be the best couple ever."

"Okay," I say, and then we're kissing again.

I end up ringing my boss at lunch, whilst Peeta is eating opposite me; he politely pretends he can't hear our conversation. "Hey," I say.

"How are you?" My boss asks. "Settling in well?"

"I don't think I want to be an escort anymore," I tell her, and Peeta meets my eyes for a second before they drop back to his plate.

"What?"

"I want to stay with Peeta," I say. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay, Katniss."

I hang up and give Peeta his phone back. He slips it into his shirt pocket. "So," He says. "I'm guessing we're only going to fuck each other now, yeah?"

"That's the idea," I tell him, spinning spaghetti around my fork. "I will need the money, though; I'll just get some job in the Capitol."

"I'll give you money," Peeta tells me.

"From your sleazy business? No thanks," I say, and he rolls his eyes. I carry my plate towards the sink and dump it in there. "What do you want to do this afternoon?"

"There's a job going at a place my friend owns in the centre of the Capitol," Peeta tells me. "We could check it out, if you like."

"Cool," I say. "What job is it?"

"A stripper," Peeta says.

"Excellent," I grin.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks again for continuing to read this story! You guys are my bitches and it's so nice to get such positive reviews, especially on a fan fiction which is probably a bit frowned upon in some parts of the fandom, though if you go onto rated M, what do you expect?**

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**(I have the ending all planned out)**

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I grab hold of the pole and use my arms to swing my body into a sitting down position. I swing my legs up and around the pole, and I spin around it in almost perfect copying of the five girls dancing next to me.

It was almost too easy for Peeta to get me the job as a stripper at the local Capitol strip club. My experience as an escort got me the job almost immediately. That was a week ago.

After the show is over and I am felt-up by a lot of Capitol men and women on the way out, it is eventually just Peeta and me. I'm expected to lock up. He sits in the front row, his feet on a table, a straw from his drink between his lips. "Good show," He says.

"Thanks," I say, sweeping confetti off the stage into the bucket at the end. "You don't seem to be the only one," I gesture towards the window, where a bunch of Capitol men are leering at me. "Close the curtains, would you?"

He gets up, the straw still between his lips, and he gives a sarcastic wave to the men outside before closing the curtain. He takes the rope which ties them together and wraps it slowly around his hand. "Are we alone?"

"Yeah," I say, and my eyes fall on the rope. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"You look sexy," He tells me. "That's what I'm thinking."

I'm wearing tight leather trousers; knee-high boots; an army jacket ripped open, revealing my breasts and several gold chains. "I'm glad you like it," I breathe.

He walks slowly up to the stage slowly, unravelling the rope from around his palm. "I want to fuck you, right here, right now."

We start to kiss; my fingers release the broom and after a few seconds, he pulls away to pull my hands together with rope. He pulls of his tie and uses it as a gag, knotting it at the back of my head. Using the rope, he ties me to the pole.

"You know," Peeta says slowly as undoes the fly on his trousers. "I remember on our first meeting, when I blindfolded you and fucked you in three different ways. A lot has happened since then, hasn't it?" He allows his trousers to fall.

He circles me and then yanks my trousers down. The thong I am wearing underneath is already practically soaked. He hooks his fingers into the thong and pulls it down my legs. "This is how I like you," He says. "Vulnerable," He pulls his boxer shorts down.

The jacket I am wearing is easy to tear, and he proves this when he rips it off my back. Stood behind me, he teases the lips of my sex with his dick and I moan; when I do so, he spanks my ass. "No talking," He says. "If I wanted you too, I wouldn't have put a gag in your mouth."

He takes hold of my breasts from behind and pushes himself into me. It's deep this way; my knuckles are white against the pole. He slams into me, hard and fast, and I have to close my eyes and clench my jaw to stop myself from screaming myself into an orgasm. His fingers tug hard on my nipples, twisting them, as he slams into me.

He's panting heavily; my body slams into the pole and his hands are hard on my hips as he jerks me back and forth. I can't help but gasp with each jerk, but he doesn't spank me again. Then, he orgasms, and there are several moments of gasping and panting before he pulls out.

He pulls up my thong and trousers, undoes the knot on the gag, and walks around the front of me and undoes the knot of rope holding my hands together. I can barely stand. "You okay?" He asks with his crooked smile and messed up hair.

"Yes," I say breathlessly. "That was intense,"

He gives me his suit jacket – mine is torn now – and pulls up his trousers. He holds out his hand to me. "Come on, let's go home,"

He drives. When we get back, I strip down, and we go to take a bath. I sit on his lap again, our fingers entwined. My head aches; I'm not sure whether it's from the sex or the loud music in the strip club.

"Your skin feels very hot," Peeta says with his hand pressed against my forehead. "I think that you have gotten a fever or something,"

"I feel fine," I lie.

"That came on quick," Peeta says. "Come on," He climbs out of the bath and picks me up. He carries me into the living room and puts me carefully onto the couch. "If I get sick, I'm killing you,"

"I'm not sick," I say.

"Don't you like being sick?"

"I'm not sick," I repeat. "Nobody gets sick that suddenly; it's probably just-" and then I feel like I'm going to throw up, and Peeta must see this because he moves out of the way pretty quickly, and I throw up onto his floor.

"Oh my God," I say. "Jesus, I'm so sorry,"

"Don't worry," He says. "Let's get you a bucket or something, alright?"

And for the rest of the weekend, he moves me from the sofa and his bed, always with me to bring me food or to stroke my hair or to give me some pills – since I refuse to take the Capitol medicine – and to stay with me until I fall asleep.

I'm just dozing off on the Sunday night when I murmur, "Stay with me," because I don't want him to leave in the night. Just before I doze off, I hear him say, "Always,"


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for reading the previous chapters, please review, I'll love to hear from you guys!**

"Is your work even legal?" I ask him. He looks at me as he ties his tie. "It doesn't look legal."

"Is being an escort even legal?" He asks me, and I sigh. "It's an official business, Kat."

"It just reminds me of the games," I say. "The Hunger Games, I mean. Kids being forced to do shit they don't want to do and are likely to end up dead."

"You're exaggerating, Katniss." Peeta says, putting on his suit. "I haven't been to work in a week, I've mopped up your vomit, fed you soup, and did whatever you wanted me to do, and I need to go back. It puts food on the table, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, and money in stripper's thongs," I say.

"Yeah, _your_ thongs," He says, and he grins at me.

"It makes me think that it could have been _me_, you know?" I say, and he looks at me again; there is no guilt in his eyes at all. "Don't you care that those girls are actual human beings?"

"I'm changing the business," He tells me, and I stare at him. "I'm making it optional for girls to join up, but I can't do anything about the girls we've already... sold. It's too late. Is that good enough for you?"

I'm taken aback. "Yeah... thanks, Peeta."

"Sure," He says, and he kisses me on his way out. "I'll even show you the paperwork if you don't believe me,"

"I believe you," I say, and he smiles at me, and then leaves.

I go to work at dinner, and when the show is over, I notice Peeta sat in the back, chewing on a straw again, grinning at me as I sweep the confetti off the stage. He drives us home, but then pulls over on the freeway home.

"What are you doing?" I ask him.

"Let's fuck; now."

I climb into the backseat and he yanks my leather trousers off. I see the headlights as cars drive past; maybe they think the car has broken down. I have to stifle a laugh; what would the citizens of the Capitol do if they knew what was happening in the back of Peeta's car?

I wiggle out of my panties and I hear Peeta unzip his jeans. I put my feet on both of the front seats and he pushes himself into me. My fingers hang onto the back of the seats behind me as he repeatedly slams into me; I moan and move my hands from the seats to his hair, guiding him along, my hands groping his jacket, trying to find something to hang onto. "Peeta," I moan; it feels so good, in the back of his car, trying to keep my noises quiet so I don't alert a passer-by. "Peeta, God, Peeta,"

One of my hands feebly rubs myself as he slams into me and my other hand runs down his back, sliding under his jacket, my nails raking against his skin. I feel the build-up in the bottom of my stomach and I moan, and then he orgasms, and he continues to thrust and then I orgasm, my nails digging into his skin, and then he pulls out and collapses back into the driver's seat, yanking his jeans back up.

"We need to do that more often," I pant, pulling my panties up again. "Seriously, that was great."

"Round two," He says, starting the car. "Back at the house,"

He drives home, and then in the hallway after I get naked, we kiss, and then he takes his tie and puts it in my mouth, knotting it at the back of my head, and he takes me into the room with the painted red _X_ on the floor. He puts me onto the bed, and I watch as he takes two soft ropes from a wooden box and ties my wrists to the bedpost.

He takes hold of a blindfold and lifts my head up. I keep my eyes on his face for as long as possible before he tugs the blindfold over my eyes and ties the knot. Now in complete darkness, I feel his fingers lift up each one of my ankles at tie each one to separate ends of the bed.

"What senses can you use?" Peeta asks me. Since I can't answer, I don't do anything, until he snaps his finger by my ear and my head jerks. "Hearing,"

His fingers move up my stomach and they feel really good against my skin. "Touch," He says softly. Something brushes against my nose; it smells like leather. "Smell," He says. "But not sight, and not taste,"

Something smacks against my clit and I moan, my hips jerking up; I think it's a riding crop. My body tingles from the hit; the pleasure shakes through my body. It hits there again, and I throw my head back; it's an indescribable feeling of pleasure and it makes my body tremble. Even as an escort, nobody has ever done this.

I feel his hands undo the knot from the gag in my mouth, and it falls to lightly wrap around my neck, and I pant openly from the hit. "Ever done this before, Katniss?" He asks.

Still blind, I say, "No,"

The crop hits me again. "No what?"

"No, Mr. Mellark," I gasp. I feel the crop moving up my skin, and I shout, "Bread!"

I feel him tense and he pulls the blindfold off my eyes. He hastily starts to undo the ties around my wrists and ankles. "Are you okay? I'm sorry if I-"

"No," I say as he undoes the last tie on my left ankle. "No, I want to be in control."

I push him down onto the pillows and I tear off his shirt. He grins as I do this and I yank down his jeans and boxer shorts. I kiss him roughly and I sit on his dick, pushing down slowly, and he moans. My hands push down on his stomach as I grind against him. I move his hands so they are resting on my breasts.

"Jesus," He pants. "Faster, Katniss,"

But I don't pick up the tempo; in fact, I go slower. He grabs hold of my hips and grinds me harder against him; I take his hands off my hips and move them to my breasts. He massages them as I ride him, and his body starts to spasm, his orgasm getting closer, and then he orgasms, and as he gasps, I climb off him with satisfaction and crawl next to him on the bed.

"Wait," He mumbles, and he opens my legs and his fingers swirl around my clit. My ass grinds into the bed as my back arches. He messages my clit lightly, and my body jerks, my mouth open slightly; he knows I want him to go faster, but I know he's going to make me wait. "Peeta," I moan.

His finger slowly pumps in and out of me, and his other hand works on my nub and clit, and I grip onto his hair, gasping. My legs stiffen and I feel the spasms in my core. My toes curl as he picks up the tempo and a moan escapes my lips; my hips rock against his hand, and I feel the orgasm building up fast, and then he slows down, and I moan in frustration, and when I feel the build-up start again, he slows down. "Peeta," I groan. "Peeta, please,"

He inserts three digits and pumps fast; I feel the pleasure, right in the back of my teeth, and then I orgasm, his name on my lips, and then, panting, I curl up next to him, and fall asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for the nice reviews so far! You guys are like my whores or something I love you all! Thanks:)**

He thrusts into me and I moan with the back of my head on his shoulder; we're both kneeling up on his bed, and his hips are rocking slowly as he teasingly pushes in and out of me. His hands are moulding my breasts, and one of my hands is over my shoulder to grip his hair, the other to rub myself, trying to bring myself to release.

"God," I moan. "That feels so good."

He increases the tempo of his thrusting and I groan his name. His hand pushes mine away from my clit and his thumb swirls around in circular motions. I feel the build-up happen suddenly, and I squeeze my thighs together to make it arrive faster. Peeta is practically slamming into me now.

"I'm going to come!" He shouts, and then he orgasms, bringing me to my release, as well. We collapse onto the bed, gasping, and after a few minutes he turns to me and says, "What do you want for breakfast?"

We go through into the kitchen. "I keep forgetting to take the pill," I tell Peeta across the dining room table, popping the _Thursday _pill from its foil. The pills were invented a long time ago, but the Capitol made one that was better; pregnancy was near impossible on them.

"That's comforting," Peeta tells me, sipping from his mug. "Imagine your face on a baby," He grimaces and I kick him under the table. "That hurt," He says.

"So did your comment," I tell him. He grins, rubbing his knee. "Are we doing anything today? Hmm, let me guess; hard core sex and a cup of tea?"

He rolls his eyes. "And you say my comments hurt,"

"The truth stings," I say. "I think I might go and see my Mom today,"

"Your Mom?" Peeta says. "In District twelve?"

"Yeah," I say. "I haven't seen her in so long; now I'm making some money from basically being a slut, I think I can afford the train down there. She's been trying to set her medical business into a sort of hospital. I'd like to help her for a while."

"I'm in District 10 for work anyways, so I'll probably be back late," Peeta says. He pulls off a chunk of bread from his plate and dunks it into his mug. When he sees me staring, he says, "They call it Hot Chocolate; it's good."

He slides the mug across the table and I eat the bread that is covered in the stuff; it tastes sweet, sweeter than tea, and it's good. We share the drink and I go down to the station to catch the train to District Twelve.

I'm one of the only people in the carriage. Not many people go back to my home district after they have left. Many are just happy to escape, if they can. The heavy fence around the district stops a lot of people from attempting.

Not me, though; or my best friend Gale, who I haven't spoken too since I was sixteen. We used to hunt together as kids. It was the only time that I felt like I was me.

After I get off the train, I tred through the District Twelve roads; Christmas is approaching, but in District Twelve, it doesn't look like it is at all. It's the Victory Tour, but in the Capitol, even where the games are so popular, it isn't compulsory viewing. Maybe that's why the curtains are tightly pulled shut, and nobody is walking around. I am the only person on the streets.

I can remember where his house is. When I knock, nobody answers. The door is unlocked. When I walk in, it's deserted of any personal belongings; the walls have been burnt. The floor is black. I kick some odd lumps of coal with my shoe. Nobody has lived here for a while.

I go outside of the house, slide under the fence which is dead from electricity, and run across the meadow which is covered with a thin layer of frost. I don't fit in with the woods; all of my clothes are from the Capitol. I take my hair, which is loose around my shoulders, and I braid it up.

There is a tree which is hallowed out, the bow and arrows still in my father's old quiver, covered in their protective cover. I fix my arrow into my bow and remove my shoes. I remember Gale and his velvet tread, his low voice, and his talent with snares.

I practise shooting against a tree. My aim is off slightly, and the string feels tighter than usual. I end up sitting in a tree – my climbing, despite years without doing it, is still better than average – and wondering what happened to my old best friend.

I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, it is pitch black. I panic and try to scramble from the tree; I can only use one hand thanks to the bow. I swing from the top branch dangerously; I'm too short to reach the one underneath.

My hand slips on the bark and I fall. My leg hits the branch underneath me as I plummet to the woods floor. I end up sprawled out on the leaves, gasping; my leg is twisted.

"Shit," I wheeze, and I try to turn over to assess the damage, but a horrific pain deep in my thigh makes me stop. My leg is broken. I'm certain it's broken or at least badly bruised.

My hand shoves in my pocket; I should ring Peeta, but what could he do? He's in District 10 today, for work. Gasping, I slowly pull myself on my belly – luckily I was not deep in the woods, fearing that I wouldn't be able to properly protect myself after nine years away from it – and slowly across the meadow.

After I have slipped under the fence, I prop myself up against the butcher's by the fence and cut away my trousers from around my thigh. There are yellow bruises already forming around my leg. I'm going to have to call for help, and I never even got the chance to visit my Mom.

I dial Peeta's number automatically and he picks up on the third ring. "Katniss?"

"I hurt my leg," I tell him. "I need help and I can't move."

"Where are you?"

"By the old butchers – District Twelve," I say. A sudden pain in my leg doubles me over.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?" He says. "Hang in there."

"Thanks," I say. "Bye,"

He shows up faster than I expected; under an hour. He carries me wordlessly back to the car and he fastens me in the back. He sits in the driver's seat. "How bad is it?" He asks. "The pain, I mean?"

"On a scale, I'd say 7," I say.

"Okay; we'll get you home and see how it is in the morning, yeah?"

"Okay," I say, my hands wrapped around my leg, and I wonder why I rang Peeta. Maybe it's because I trust him more than I trust anybody else; even my Mom.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for reading so far, people! I said before that I have the ending planned out; however I'm having some other ideas...**

**I'm currently thinking of three ways to end the story and I'm currently working my way towards option two. I'd love to hear your opinions on how you think my story should end! It'd be great to hear all of your thoughts!**

**I would also love to hear how you wish the story would end. This way I could take them and make the ending into an ending which I hope you'd all like! Thanks again for your feedback!**

"How's your leg?" Peeta asks me as I wake up. It feels stiff and painful, but not as bad as yesterday. He looks sleepy; his eyelids are a dark brown and his blonde hair is ruffled from dreaming. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not as bad," I say groggily. I go to roll out of bed but when my foot touches the floor a horrible shooting pain rocks my body and I cry out. Peeta gets up immediately and helps me back under the duvet.

"I think we should ring a doctor," Peeta says, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Just in case something is wrong, okay?"

"Okay," I say timidly.

"Go back to sleep," His finger gently runs around the ring under my right eye. "I'll sort everything out, okay?"

I doze off. I'm woken up by Peeta, who is holding a t-shirt in his hand. "I'd put this on," He tells me. I hadn't realized I was only wearing my panties. "The doctor is coming in half an hour. Do you want anything?"

I prop myself up against the pillows. "Can you get me a hot chocolate, please?"

He leaves to get me one and I put my leg over the top of the duvet to assess the damage. The skin is black and purple with a bruise that ends just above my knee; my thigh aches painfully. I wiggle my toes; it doesn't hurt.

Peeta comes back a few minutes later with a steaming mug full and I sip it. He changes from his boxer shorts and sleeping t-shirt to some normal clothes to greet the doctor in. There is a knock on the door not long after, and he brings the doctor in, and he tells me that I've badly bruised my leg.

"I could have said that," I grumble after the doctor has left. Peeta smiles. "I hate my stupid leg. I hate not being able to walk around. How long do I have to stay here for?"

"Until you recover," Peeta tells me, and then pauses. "I have an important meeting today. If you want me to stay, I don't mind, it's just that-"

"Go," I tell him, sipping my drink. "Honestly, I don't mind. Okay?"

"Okay," He says uneasily. "I'll check up on you at dinner, okay? I'm sorry, it's just that with changing the business and everything there is a lot of-"

"Peeta," I cut over him. "Honestly, it's fine. Go to work. Just don't work too hard, okay?" He kisses me.

"Thank you," He says as he ties his tie. "If you need anything whilst I'm gone, _anything_ - just ring, okay?"

"Okay," I say, and he kisses me again before he leaves.

The sound of the empty apartment gives me unease. I've decided I dislike the apartment when he isn't here. It's false, just like the Capitol, apart from maybe his room. His belongings are scattered around his bedroom.

I try to get out of bed; after a few bad attempts, I end up on my feet for a few seconds before the pain lands me onto the floor. I grab hold of the bedposts to yank myself up, and I awkwardly collapse into his desk chair which has wheels on the bottom. I use my good foot to roll myself across the floor.

I go into the room with the red X and I open the wooden box. There isn't anything in there that particularly interests me. I groan in frustration as I wheel myself through the house. My leg aches horribly.

I want to go up to the pool, so I ditch the chair and hop awkwardly up the stairs. I strip and use a breast stroke to slowly make my way through the water. I slide onto the tile step, but stay on the edge so my aching leg can float in the water.

My hand slips between my legs and my finger starts to rub my clit. My body gives a jolt and my back arches as I pump my finger slowly in and out. I moan and move my other hand to tug on my nipple. My hips rock against my hand. It feels comforting; it distracts me from the pain of my leg.

Since I know that Peeta wouldn't have sex with me whilst I'm hurt, this is a good substitute. My finger slowly begins to rub harder as I move it around in circles; my body jerks with pleasure and my toes curl. Then, when I'm close to release and I'm panting, I hear the front door slam and my hand jumps away from myself almost guiltily.

"Katniss?" I hear Peeta call. "Where are you?"

"Up here," I call. I hear him coming up the stairs and he stands in the doorway to the pool. I smile at him. "Hey,"

"Hey," He says. "How the Hell did you get up here?"

"Perseverance," I say, and he laughs.

"I see you've used by desk chair," He says, walking further into the room. He stops at the edge of the pool. "Nice idea,"

"Thanks," I say. "You're home early,"

"The meeting ended early," He says. "I decided to check on you. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm okay," I say, and he looks at me suspiciously; I know I have a large false smile on.

"Are you sure?" He asks. "You look very weird."

"Weird how?" I ask.

"Like you're hiding something," Peeta says. "Did you break something on your adventure with my desk chair?"

"No," I say. "Though I sort of wish I did,"

He rolls his eyes. "Mind if I join you?"

"It's your pool," I say.

He strips and climbs into the pool. I climb down from the step and he supports me before my leg touches the tiled pool floor. I kiss him and he kisses me tentatively back, and when my hand wraps around the back of his neck, he pulls away. "Your leg," He mumbles against my lips.

"Please," I mumble back. "I'm an ex-escort stripper; I'm always horny and I need to return the favour."

He laughs against my lips and then we're kissing again. He slowly moves us through the water until we meet the tiled step. I push him down onto it. His erection sits under me, and I take it in my hand, and slowly pump my hand up and down his shaft. He hisses through gritted teeth and I grin to myself.

My lips lock around the head and I suck on the top before taking him fully into my mouth. His hand twists around my hair and I let him push my head up and down his cock; he's in control, the way he likes it.

My lips tighten around his cock and I graze it slightly with my teeth. He groans as I fuck him with my mouth, and after a few more moments, he orgasms down my throat and I swallow his cum in one.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks for continuing to read guys! Your reviews keep me writing! Please continue to give me your feedback! It means a lot to see that so many of you are enjoying my story and that you look forward to updates every day. It's amazing how such a simple idea can go so far! And to think I only meant for this to be a one-shot!**

**Keep reviewing guys, it means a lot:)**

"Mom!" I say into the phone. In her hospital, they have a phone which works for certain parts of the day, but sometimes it cuts off in the middle of the conversation. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, Katniss," She says. Her voice sounds distant, just like it always does since Prim died, and of course, before. "How are you doing?"

"Good," I say. "I'm doing really well, actually. How is the hospital you're trying to set up?"

"We've got a few volunteers and there was a minor explosion in the mines yesterday so we were busy stitching up wounds."

"Was everybody okay?" I ask, thinking of my father and his brutal death in the mines. I shake my head free from the memory.

"Yes," Mom says.

"Mom, have you heard from Gale lately?" I ask her. "I want to talk to him; I haven't spoken to him in so long."

"No, I haven't," Mom says. "A couple of years ago he went hunting and he didn't come back. People said that he escaped to live in the woods. Nevertheless, they executed his family after his escape."

Hazelle; Rory; Posy; Vick. All gone. Dead. All because Gale chased a dream like a wisp of smoke. Did he make it? Of course he must have. With a few of my father's weapons and his knowledge of plants, he set out into the woods without telling anybody and let his family pay for it.

My head is swirling. Why would he do that too them? He loved them the way I loved Prim before she died; the way I loved him. Was he unable to convince them to live in the wild? Did Hazelle think he wouldn't go so refused to take part in his illegal activity?

"Okay, Mom. I gotta run. I'll talk to you another time, okay? I love you. Bye."

I hang up Peeta's phone and bury my face in my hands. Oh, Gale. Did he know what would happen to his family? Maybe he didn't. If I hadn't gone to the Capitol, I could have convinced him to stay.

Or I could have convinced his family to go with him.

Peeta walks into the kitchen, gets a drink from the fridge, and sits opposite me. "Are you okay? Is it your leg?"

"No," I say; a week later, my leg is improving, but it still hurts. "It's nothing, I'm fine."

"Okay," He says.

I pause. "Peeta, how come you never talk to your family?"

Peeta clears his throat. "My Mom used to abuse me," He says. "So I don't talk to them anymore."

I remember his Mom, beating him with the rolling pin, and the bread as it landed by my feet. His face as he turned away. "I'm sorry, Peeta."

He shrugs. "You get over stuff like that fast when you're surrounded by a lot of money."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "I guess so."

He messes up his hair and smiles at me. "Are you sure your leg is okay?"

"Stop worrying about me," I say. "Let's go and have sex."

"Whoa," He says. "Probably shouldn't when your leg is as useless as a white crayon."

"Come on, Peeta!"

"When it's healed, okay?"

It takes a couple more days before my leg heals and I can walk on it okay. The skin on my thigh fades to a light yellow. When Peeta comes home from work on the Friday, as soon as he walks through the door, I kiss him. Slightly taken aback, he wraps his arms around my back and kisses me harder.

We stumble into his bedroom; I yank off his tie and continue to kiss him hungrily as his hands run up my bare back. I'm wearing only panties. My hands unbutton his shirt. He kisses my neck until I pull off his shirt and then I kiss him again on the mouth.

I sit on top of him as we kiss. His fingers twist in my hair and he kisses down my body, his tongue swirling around my nipple and I press my forehead against his shoulder before I unzip his trousers and yank them off.

I grind against his erection, both of us still wearing our underwear, and he groans as he tries to get as much friction as he can. I yank off his boxer shorts and his fingers hook into my panties and he pulls them slowly down my legs.

I push myself down onto him and we both groan. How long has it been since we've had sex? Six days? Seven? Eight? His hands guide my hips. I move slowly up and down on him, and then he flips us over so I'm underneath him.

He takes hold of my good leg and puts my foot onto his shoulder. He laces his fingers with mine and pushes into me; my toes curl and my voice gives out a wail. My butt pushes into the bed as he thrusts into me over and over, slower my hips lift up, trying to pull me away from what I want, dragging out the pleasure for as long as he can.

My hands grip onto his hair. I feel the pleasure everywhere, all over my body as my hips jerk in sync with the rhythm of his thrusts. With one of my hands still clutching his hair, I use the other to stroke my clit. He pushes hard and fast into me and I feel myself about to come, and I cry out as I do, and he follows me, and he collapses next to me on the bed, both of us sinking into the mattress.

"Well," He says after several minutes of heavy breathing. "I'm guessing your leg feels better, then?"

"Uh-huh," I say.

He laces his hand with mine. "That's good," He says drowsily, and then he falls asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks for all of the lovely reviews! I'd still love to hear your thoughts on how you think the ending will go and how you wish it will go! It means a lot to hear your feedback, and thank you for continuing to read!**

**And despite what people might say, I still stand by the fact that Everlark is the best Hunger Games ship. Ever. Honestly. **

I wake up stretched out on Peeta's stomach, my hair messy and tangled, both of us still naked, one of my hands laced with his. Careful not to rouse him, I go to move off his body. I lie next to him. It's then I notice his morning erection.

He's still out, his face peaceful, his bottom lip stuck out under the top. I crawl to the foot of the bed and take hold of his erection in my hand, and then I take the head into my mouth, and swirl my tongue around the saltiness of the shaft. I then take him fully into my mouth and then pull out again. His cock now lubricated with my saliva, I start to slowly pump my hand up and down it.

Peeta stirs. I rub my thumb softly over the head, going around in circles, and I hear Peeta moan sleepily. With my other hand, I start to massage his balls. I blow hot air onto the end of his dick and his body twists.

"Morning hand-job," He says drowsily. "Nice."

I start to pump faster and he moans again. I feel the tightening in his balls so I put him back into my mouth and continue to massage his balls until he orgasms, gasping, into my mouth, and I swallow his come and lay down next to him again.

"Morning," I say with a grin.

It takes him several moments before he can speak. "Morning," He says. "I didn't expect to wake up to that."

"I'm all about the surprises," I say. "I'm going to make some coffee; do you want some?"

"Yeah, please,"

I go into the kitchen – pausing to pull on my panties on the way – and I turn the coffee maker on and pull out two cups from the cupboard. I sit on the counter, my hand drumming on my recovering thigh. When the coffee is done, I go back into the bedroom and hand a cup to Peeta. We sit peacefully on the bed, sipping our coffee.

"Do you have work today?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "What about you?"

"Nope," I say. "It's a pleasurable day off from the dancing on poles and the perverts."

"We're both off work," Peeta says, sipping his coffee. "We should do something,"

"Like what?" I ask.

"Let's have a lazy day," Peeta says.

So we do. Peeta gets a bunch of food from the magic red button on his kitchen counter – cakes, cookies, croissants, chocolate strawberries, candy – and we cuddle up in bed and watch the television which is mainly the re-cap on the Victory Tour. After a few minutes, we turn the TV off and play poker naked on his duvet.

After he wins – twice – I sit on his lap, my back against his chest, and he braids and then un-braids my hair over and over. After a long time of peaceful silence, he says, "I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever."

I would, too. The food, the softness of the blanket, the warmth of Peeta, and the happiness of just being with him for an entire day makes this moment a good one. "Okay," I say.

"Do you want to get a shower?"

We climb into the shower together; I hadn't realized how nice his bathroom actually was. The walls and floors are marble, apart from one wall that is another one of his windows which changes the view from the touch of a button. It's set now to a grey sky with a blue ocean. The bath is an oval shape. The shower is guarded by glass.

He passes me a sponge and we both wash ourselves. I'm scrubbing my foot with the sponge when I realize how attractive Peeta looks naked. His hair is wet, his skin covered in bubbles. He sees me staring and kisses me. The force of it pushes me against the glass.

His soapy hands run up my wet skin; we kiss hungrily, his hands clutching my ass, my legs on either side of his waist. My hand clutches the back of his neck as he lightly bites down on my nipple. His tongue swirls around my breast.

I feel his erection between my legs as we begin to kiss again. Gripping onto my ass, he pushes me down onto his cock and our foreheads press together, my body still against the glass wall that shields the shower from the rest of the room. He thrusts into me again and my moan echoes off the tiles.

He increases the speed almost immediately; my body rolls against his as we both breathe heavily, our lips almost touching, my hands gripping his hair and his fingers making marks on my body. It's deep this way. I feel the metallic taste in my mouth which I associate with sex. "Oh, God, Peeta!" I say, and then he does a particularly deep thrust which sends me over the edge. He orgasms almost immediately after me and then the glass bursts open and we collapse onto the bathroom tiles.

We have a few moments of silence as we recover from the short fall until I burst out laughing. He starts laughing too, and we lie next to each other on the tiles, giggling like idiots. When I feel as if my stomach is about to burst, I say, "How the fuck did that happen?"

Still laughing, he doesn't answer and I roll over to kiss him, both of us naked on the freezing cold bathroom tiles, the shower still running behind us.

**This fanfiction was based on this gif:**

**(though I of course don't own anything associated with the Hunger Games – though I sort of wish I owned Josh Hutcherson)**

. /tumblr_m53bwifcIQ1rn0y7so1_


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks for reviewing so far! And when you reach the end of this chapter, don't worry; there is one more chapter coming.**

"What are you saying?" Peeta snarls on the phone. "Sort this shit out before I go over to your house and sort you out!" He hangs up the phone and buries his head in his hands. He thinks I'm asleep, but I'm peeking at him through my eyelashes. He's sat at his desk which is in line with the bed by the real window which looks out onto the Capitol.

He gets up from the chair and starts to pace, drumming the phone against his lips. Maybe he is hoping they'll ring him back, but they don't. He dumps his phone on his desk and gets back into bed. I don't roll over to look at him so he thinks I'm still dreaming.

I'm not sure who he was talking too; I only woke up when I heard his harsh talking on his phone and for a wild moment I thought it was directed at me. I hear the keyboard on his phone rapidly typing away. "For Fucks sake," I hear him mutter.

I roll over and since my eyes are already half open, I see him toss his phone away from the bed. There is no thud as it hits the floor; it must have landed in his t-shirt or some other item of clothing. I pretend to be sleepy, and he kisses my forehead. "Hey," He says gently.

"Hey," I say. "Were you talking to somebody?"

"I had the TV on low for a little bit," He lies. It doesn't sound like a lie, though; if I hadn't heard him talking on the phone, I might have believed him. "Sorry if I woke you up."

"It's okay," I yawn, and he kisses me, on the lips this time, and wraps his arms around me. His lips press against my shoulder. "Do you have to go to work today?"

"Yeah," He mumbles against my shoulder. "I need to get ready."

He climbs out of bed and grabs his trousers; he yanks them on and I hear him zipping them up. I wait until I hear the noise of the cabinet opening until I say, "I heard you on the phone."

The drawer slowly closes. "How much of it did you hear?"

I roll over; I make sure the duvet is over my breasts. "Not much," I say. "You were mad,"

"Not exactly," He says, buttoning up a black shirt. "Just talking to a guy at work,"

"You were yelling," I say. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," He says. "Just business stuff,"

"That sounds like bullshit," I say. "Is somebody mad at you? Are you mad at them?"

"Katniss," He says.

"People are mad at me," He says. "That's all. I'm going in today to sort it out."

"Why are they mad at you?" I ask. He grabs some shoes from his wardrobe. "Peeta!"

"They don't want me to alter the business," Peeta says.

"What?" I say. "Why not?"

He sighs, tying up his shoelace. "I went into business with two Capitol guys; two _sexist_ Capitol guys. They are not pleased with the thought of me making it more female friendly. I'm being over-ruled."

"What do you mean by over-ruled?"

He rubs his forehead. "They're not letting me change the business," He says. "That's the problem when you own a business but decide to have some business partners as well. They don't like you making changes that could affect the money that is brought in."

"So..."

"So the business stays the same," Peeta says. He must see my face fall and the way I clutch my blanket tighter around myself. "Katniss, I'm so sorry, but I tried, I'm still trying, but I don't think it's going to make a difference."

"Then..." I can't conjure up the words; my mouth feels numb. "Then what are we doing here?"

He stares at me. "What do you mean?"

"Peeta. When you have this _thing_ – this slavery thing for the sake of the Capitol – it doesn't make me feel like your girlfriend, it makes me feel like your whore. And it's like when we stop fucking, I'm nothing."

"Katniss, it's not like that, it's-"

"But it is, Peeta," My voice is weak and defeated because I can't believe that the girls in the Capitol are going to continue to be exploited until – until when? Somebody gets raped and murdered? Why does it always take a death before things change? "It's exactly like that. I wish it wasn't. I wish we both still lived in District Twelve. I wish you were still my boy with the bread."

"I tried, Katniss!" He shouts. "I tried! What else am I supposed to do? I've done everything for you!" His voice goes to be weak, like mine. "I don't want this to end."

"I love you," I tell him. "But now, it's going to be like every time I kiss you, I think of the girls in the Capitol that are being kissed against their will and it makes me want to throw up. I love you, but I don't love who you are."

"Katniss," He pleads. "Katniss, please."

"I know you've tried, Peeta, and I owe you a lot for that, but at the end of the day, we both know who we are. We both know what sort of people we are. I'm the slut, you're the sleaze, and that's the way it is." I say.

"But you're not," He says. "And I'm not a sleaze."

"Okay," I say slowly. "You're not a sleaze, but your business is. And I can't live here, or with you, when I know that it's still being run. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

His face almost kills me. I feel the pain of leaving him, the pain of leaving this, right in my stomach. I feel almost as sick as I do when I think of the girls. But I need to do this. Not just for them. But for what I believe in. I could have been one of those girls and it scares me.

He opens his mouth to say something, but then it closes again. He knows that there isn't anything more to say. After several minutes of silence, he says, "I'm so sorry, Katniss."

"I'm sorry that you didn't order a more obedient escort," I say.

"No," He says. "I'm glad that you showed up. You've...you've showed me and taught me a lot of things. Not just about how to treat people. Thank you."

He leaves silently to go to work. That's good, because it lets me cry without him watching. With tears running down my face, I pack him my few belongings – mostly just clothes – and take a slow walk around the apartment.

I know it's stupid. I know it's fucking stupid that I feel such an attachment to a man who bought me for a night. But he wasn't just the boy with the bread. He was the boy who saved my life, and I am grateful.

"Thank you," I whisper, because I am, and I know there are cameras in here somewhere. I want him to know how much I actually love him. I owe him my life, but I don't owe him those girls.

And then I leave without looking back.


	16. Chapter 16

**This is the end of my story!**

**Thanks for reading the past chapters, it means a lot to hear how much a lot of you enjoyed reading! I've loved reading your reviews and they've been inspiring me to write and read more fanfictions which have influenced this story. Thanks you guys and fellow Everlark shippers, I hope you guys have enjoyed reading as much as I have writing. **

**Thanks!**

_Peeta's POV_

"This isn't right!" I shout across the conference table. My two business partners look at me with simple expressions; one keeps tapping his pen against the table, drumming it on the top at an annoying tempo. "You must know this isn't right! They're being exploited!"

"Peeta, you never had a problem with this before," One of them says calmly.

"Yeah, well, my opinion has changed," I say, collapsing back into my chair, thinking of Katniss. If she's leaving, I at least owe her this. I lean forward. "Listen; I don't need you guys in this business. I can buy you out."

They look interested in this. "How much are we talking?"

"How much are you asking?" I say.

They look at each other. Alvah, the older one, scribbles a price down on his notepad and slides it down the table. I look at the price and snort. "Seven million?" I say. "Each? I was thinking more like three."

"Five million," Cassius, the one who is about my age, haggles. Alvah nods urgently and I snort again; how desperate are these people? They've been getting millions from the business for two years. They're not poor. I'm just richer.

"No," I say. "Three million," They look disgruntled and displeased; good.

"Four million," Alvah says. I shake my head.

"_Three_ million," I correct. Alvah slams his fist down onto the table and I raise my eyebrows in an attempt to be cocky.

"Meet us in the middle, here, Peeta!" Alvah says.

"I'm offering you three million, you greedy bastards, take it!" I shout. Alvah and Cassius look at each other for a few moments and I groan.

"Fine," Cassius says, rising from his seat. "We'll accept your offer."

"Fucking finally," I say. "I'll write up the paperwork. Just go, you two. It's been a horrific two years and I regret every moment." They're on their way out when I say, "Oh, and I meant two million. Bye."

They leave complaining, and I rub my forehead. I wonder if Katniss has gone; of course she has. She thinks I'm a sleaze. Which I am. No way in Hell would she hang around to watch something she hated be controlled by a guy she likes. Well, she said she liked me, anyway. Could just be a lie.

When I rang the escort system that night, I was pretty much expecting some dumb girl for me to fuck. But no. I got her. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who I threw the bread, shows up and turns out not to be a mindless whore who can't talk for herself. She's her, and the things that make her who she is are things I love. I just wish I hadn't fucked things up.

I write up the paper work and by the time I'm done, it's late. I pack up my things and the work keys and walk down the deserted corridors. If I was afraid of the dark, I might have run. But since The Hunger Games, the only thing I am afraid of is myself.

I lock up, get to the car, and I sit there for a while, not really doing anything but... grieving over my loss? Katniss was the first person in my life who wasn't about work since I arrived at the Capitol. She made Hell feel like home. Even when she was throwing up on my floor, I still wanted to be with her more than I wanted to be helping along slavery.

I drive home. She isn't there; of course she isn't. First time in a – what, month? – since she hasn't. I dump my keys on the kitchen counter and just stand there in the hallway. She hasn't left a note; not like I expected her too. I should have told her about my asshole business partners as soon as the problem arose. Then I wouldn't have gotten too attached.

And now, here I am: Peeta Mellark; District Twelve; coal; business man; abused as a kid; alone. Fell for a girl who was as sucked into the Capitol as I was. Lost that girl because of sheer stupidity.

Several days pass. I get up, shower, go to work, come back, eat, and then fall asleep. Sounds depressing, but isn't that everybody's routine? What was mine before? It was basically the same apart from 'sex' slung in there.

A knock on the door stops me in the middle of my meal on the Thursday night. I get up, ready to argue with somebody from work and yell at them for being sexist, when I swing the door open and she is stood there. Katniss.

Before I can say anything, or do anything, she blurts out, "Peeta, I think I'm pregnant."

"What?"

**It's been great writing for you guys and I hope you've enjoyed my story!**

**- DistrictFourVictor**


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